City on a Hill (Poem)
I feel as though I am pretending to be something I am not. I am comfortable writing prose and producing visual art. I am not a poet. I honestly don’t think I’ve written a poem …
Art
Poem: i look to the god of my fears, and i do not bow
i look to the god of my fears, and ido not bow, because that god is too small to have createdthe giant yew, or the stars or the galaxies of microbes that populatea single stomach, …
God Sized Lessons: Existential Crisis, Party of One Please
This wasn’t the first time this type of emotion had haunted me. I remember feeling like this after having my first child. Everyone would say really lovely things, expressing joy for our growing family, while …
White Jesus: Is it a Symbol of the Church’s Hate That Needs to be Toppled?
As an Artist, Arts & Religion Scholar, Christian, and Hispanic who has been vocal about racial issues, I received messages and comments from friends when Shaun King’s tweeted a few years ago, arguing that statues …
How Artists Communicate: A Look at J.M.W Turner
A Change in Artistic Style Do you think a change in artistic style could ever warrant a belief that someone is struggling with their mental health? Before you answer, come on a little journey with …
Architecture, Theology, and Poetry: Reflecting on the Church and Her Buildings
Every fall, I used to teach a class called Art in Culture. The class is for non-art majors, and as part of our core curriculum, it seeks to explore how art impacts and reflects cultural …
Dear Starving Artist: Create as an Act of Love for God
The conversation stung. I know what was said was stated in a well-meaning way, but it still hurt. After an opening night of a gallery show I was a part of, I sat at a …
The “Lean on Me” Ethic, No Bootstraps Required
When Bill Withers passed away, it was all over Facebook. The top hit of his illustrious career was Lean on Me. It ranked #7 when it was released in 1972, the year I was born. Withers …
A Faith of My Own
A few years ago, the NBC TV show The Office was all the rage. Despite it seeming like everyone I knew was watching it, I couldn’t. It wasn’t that I wasn’t invited to the watch …
The Delta Dawn is Always Different: A Poem
The delta dawn is always different with thechanging tide of seasons. The early purpled lightbecomes a red that slowly scrubs the sununtil the skies are clear white.When the storms abate — or maybethey just wait …